For All Our Troubles
by CheekyBrunette
Summary: Our boys. They all have problems. Sort of four mini oneshots where each of our little lovelies gets a tidge angsty, to be comforted by another. Sweet enough to rot your teeth!


**SERIOUS CHEEKY TIME: Just so you guys know, I've been praying for all of you... like, honestly for you. I mean, I guess that might sound weird, but I just want the best for you guys, and I figured you might want to know that someone's got your back.**

**Anyway, so this one is for all of you who have divoring parents, have a single parent, suffer from depression, had to grow up too fast, are addicted to things that aren't good for you, are really being hit financially, starve yourselves, are too stressed for words, suffer from anxiety attacks, require more medications and trips to the hospital then anyone should, lost something or someone important... fill in the blanks because everyone needs a helping hand. Even on good days.**

**And btw, I like to think of the guys having a ring of support. So this is sort of how I see it Kendall leans on Carlos cause he makes him forget and helps him relax with humor and randomness. Carlos leans on Logan because he's stable and smart, and, frankly, Carlos needs someone who has all the answers (and they're both freaking cuddle bugs in my eyes, so whatever). Logan leans on James because he's like his big brother, and James needs someone to protect, you know? That, and Logan's sort of innocent and naive, and James... isn't... And then James leans on Kendall cause he's big and strong and dependable.  
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**So please enjoy...**

Life sucks.

Kendall was pretty sure that was all there really was to it. The world seemed to find amusement in breaking him down, tearing him apart, and kicking him to the curb. And not only him, but also everyone he had on his list to look out for. Hard as he try, he couldn't protect his best friends from the cruel pranks fate had in store. Life wasn't tangible. Kendall couldn't check life into the boards and crack a couple of its ribs. Life wasn't someone Kendall could charm into obeying him or threaten into leaving them alone. Life wasn't something he could see coming in time to warn the guys to get out of the way. Life was life.

And it sucked.

Some days were better than others, and given the strength of his current desire to punch a couple decent sized holes through the wall, this definitely wasn't one of the better ones. He pottered down the hall to his room. Anger bubbled inside of him, but he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with it. Screaming, sulking, breaking, fighting... nothing felt right. He was just this big ball of pent up aggression that he didn't know how to release.

He climbed up onto his bed, staring at the ceiling above, bitterly. Man, he _hated_ the ceiling. It was so dumb and boring and white, and he should just freaking tear it all apart. It wasn't doing him any good anyway, what with it's plainness and highness. He bumped his head on the freaking thing every morning... He just _hated_ his-

Hot tears rolled down Kendall's face, and he knew he was being dumb. He rolled over and buried his face in his mattress, pulling his pillow over his head. Despite the lavender Downey his mom was so fond of, it didn't help Kendall relax. He could feel his sheets growing wet as he cried into them. It's just...

He's been here too many times for the same reasons, and he didn't want to do it anymore. It was always the same thing that lead him to this. For once he just wanted something else to be mad at. He was strung out and burned down, and Kendall couldn't handle succumbing to the darkness that kept battling him for his soul. A lump formed in his throat as he stifled a sob. All he wanted was his daddy back... Was it so much to want him home? He hid his nose deeper into his blankets. Yup. It was official.

Life _so _sucked.

His face dampened with salty tears, and suddenly, a little whirlwind burst through his door, slowing when it noticed him moping on his bed. Carlos Garcia lifted up his pillow and peeked at his puffy eyes. He frowned. "I guess you're gonna say no if I ask you to go to the pool..." he said, sounding disappointed. Kendall didn't respond, but watched Carlos leap up onto the top bunk with him, and couldn't help but smile a bit as the shorter boy rubbed circles on his back. "It's okay to miss him, buddy," he said, brushing his bangs out of his face with his spare hand. Kendall turned away, not wanting to seem weak, but letting the Latino sit with him.

Maybe life didn't suck so bad...

* * *

><p>Carlos pouted and looked down at another failed test.<p>

Yes. Another. As in, more than one. This happened to be exhibit K in support to the "Carlos Is A Moron" case. For all you playing at home, that's eleven failures. _In a_ _row._ He sighed and pushed the paper to the edge of his desk and rested his face in the crook of his arm with no intention of looking up for the rest of the day. He tried to block out the sound of his teacher going over the correct answers to the equations, knowing it wouldn't matter even if he did. It wasn't his fault, he just couldn't get it.

Carlos tried, he really did, but he couldn't help the disconnect in his brain. It chipped away at him every time this kind of thing happened to him. He stuck his bottom lip out farther than ever deemed humanly possible and tried to put it to the back of his mind like always, but it was pretty hard when he was still in class. He knew he should probably pay attention to the things his teacher was writing on the board, but he honestly _couldn't_. It didn't work on a normal day, it wouldn't now.

The bell rang and students started out the door and leaving for the day, but Carlos just couldn't seem to muster up a smile and join them this time. He was sad and tired of trying so hard at something he would never be able to succeed in. Carlos wasn't a quitter, but you get _eleven_ failed tests in a row and see if you wanna pop right back up and give it your all again for the same results. He felt a shadow pass over him.

"Go away, Logan," he said, knowing full well who was standing over him. After all, who else would it be? Who else cared? _James, and Kendall, and Jo, and Camille..._ the annoying voice in the back of his head reminded him, but he pushed it aside. He was grumpy and wanted to stay that way. He waited for the paler boy to leave, but he never did. Instead, a hand met the side of his face and tilted it up. He met worried brown eyes and books hugged to a sweater vested chest.

"Let me see," Logan said with a little sigh, concern etched into his expression. Carlos begrudgingly whipped the paper up toward his face. The aspiring doctor's eyes widened at the sight of all the red ink looping and circling through his hard work. Nearly every question had a big slash through it.

"There, happy?" the Latino spat, and Logan shook his head.

"No..." he said, sounding a bit confused, "but this doesn't mean we can't do better next time. You'll get it eventually, Carlos. I know that there's a bit messed up in your head, Carlos, but that doesn't mean you can't get a good grade. We just have to try something different, or work a bit harder, or-"

"Shut up!" Carlos yelped, his voice resonating through the empty classroom. Logan seemed to flinch back a little, but he wasn't leaving. "Look. It doesn't matter anymore, Logan. You've tried everything, I've tried everything, we've both worked more than anyone ever should, and it was all _useless._ Nothing's gonna work, Logie. Not with me." Logan smirked and grabbed one of his hands.

"Well," he said with a glint in his eye, "you won't know that for sure until there's actually only nothing left to try." Carlos squinted up at him, annoyed, but Logan ruffled his hair. "Plus, you're smart, Litos. You're close. We'll get this. I have a couple more go's in me as long as you do too."

Carlos smiled... maybe trying again is worth a couple more failures, as long as he'll get it in the end.

* * *

><p>Constant.<p>

That was the only way to describe Logan's worry. Just all the time, so bad it felt like he couldn't breathe, and sometimes that wasn't just a feeling. Most days it was just a nag, a little twitch in the back of his brain that kept his eyes darting back and forth and his fingers toying with his hair. Most days you could barely notice the way his foot tapped incessantly, or the never ending biting of his lip. Most days people could just blow off the way he starts and flinches when they "sneak up on him" and can have a proper conversation.

Today wasn't most days.

Today was one of the rarer ones, that even though they're 'rarer', they still happen more than Logan would like. Today was a "I can't get out of my bed cause I'm scared the ground will fall out beneath my feet day and everything I've worked so hard for will crumble down with me" sort of day.

It was crazy, the way something so irrational could eat at him. HIM. The analyzer, the methodical one, the brain. He was above this sort of random fear of everything... of nothing... or, at least, he was supposed to be. But here he was, hands shaking in his dark bed room and heart thumping wildly in his chest, and he couldn't calm down. It was like, his brain was on over drive and all it wanted to do was run through every way his day could go wrong. And it inevitably would go wrong. Way wrong. He could forget his homework, get kicked out of school, never get a job, become homeless, and when he died his body would decay in the warehouse district, never to be buried or found until the entire place was leveled.

Okay, so that's not exactly a great example of how his brain worked, but his anxiety wasn't something he could put into words. It was just... blind terror without any cause, and it shook him to the core. Logan pulled his knees to his chest, struggling to contain the tears threatening to spill over.

Panic. That's what it was. Paralyzing panic berating him with all it had, what felt like all the time, allowing him quiet spells only to build up it's strength. A panic that plagued him through dreams and daylight, making sure it's presence was known. A panic that kept him bursting at the seems his whole entire life. It kept him second guessing, quieting down, and quite literally shaking in his boots. Logan tried to quell the fear rushing through his veins like electricity through a wire, but unlike a machine, he didn't have an off switch. Logan squinted when a light flipped on, and a tall figure walked through the door.

"Hey, buddy," James said quietly, sitting him up and sitting on the bed next to him. His arms wrapped around him, one hugging his waist, and the other holding his head onto James's shoulder. "One of those days, huh?" he asked, knowing just what was happening. He had seen it before, and he would definitely be there when it happened again. Logan nodded, and gasped a little, struggling for air like he had been since he woke up. "Shhhhh," James calmed him, his fingers stroking his hair, "We're okay, we're okay. We're all okay."

'We're' he had said.

'We're' because there was no way in hell James would let Logan go through a single day of this alone.

* * *

><p>James frowned with another look in the mirror, his hands going up to once again attempt to flick his bangs into place. This wasn't fun. This had never been fun. This never <em>would<em> be fun. James was sick of this need to be flawless. To be some kind of perfection that he would never be able to obtain.

Other people, of course, seemed to effortlessly look like the epitome of fantastic in James's eyes, but not him. No. Not ever. He was trapped in constant mirror checks, endless combing, and hours on wardrobe. James probably spent more time trying to leave the house than four teenage girls combined. Under one roof. With one bathroom. And one straightener.

Yeah. It was that bad.

And it's not like James took pride in that or anything. In fact, he probably hated it more than anyone; although, Carlos would probably protest to that. He hated when James told him "sixty seconds" when he was in the bathroom with his hair supplies and he had to pee. How long a minute is truly depends on what side of the door you're on. The sound of the Latino's whimpers from the outside were definitely proof of that, but James needed his time in there. If he didn't get enough primping, then he'd look ugly, and James couldn't take the idea of looking ugly.

Which is why after all the work he put in, and he still couldn't find a positive about his complexion, he tended to get a little down. And, honestly, James could never see the good in his appearance. It practically tore him apart to struggle for this airbrushed look everyday only to fail. He thought maybe if he talked himself up enough, if he told people he was everything he tried to be, then maybe it would become true at least to him. That's what his middle school health teacher said would happen anyway...

But it didn't, and James was exhausted. His feet carried him off to his bedroom, and his head found it's way under his comforter. _Ha. Like a freaking blanket could comfort him now. As if, _he thought bitterly in the makeshift darkness. He felt a little better all covered up. It took away the embarrassment of being ugly when no one could see you. It quickly became hot beneath his sheets, but James refused to poke his head out. Not when there were people out there who'd have to lay eyes on 'the face'. Yeah, no thank you.

James nearly screamed when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his middle. He squirmed out into the open and beat his attacker with his pillow. "Kendall Knight, you nearly scared the crap out of me!" he yelped angrily, not caring how girly he sounded. Most guys wouldn't after being _terrified_ anyway. Kendall smirked and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah? Well, you nearly scare the crap out of me every time I see you hiding up here," he replied, back against the wall and feet dangling off the edge of the top bunk and into a sleeping Logan's face below. Don't be fooled by his anti-procrastination skills. That kid was a _late_ sleeper. He was one of those "12 hours or I collapse" types. James frowned and flopped back on his pillow, pulling the covers up again. Kendall scooted up closer to the head of his bed and peeled them back off, revealing a very grumpy looking James.

"What?" he snapped moodily. Kendall patted his head.

"You know you look _fine_, right?" he asked, both eyebrows arched, which was an impressive sight indeed on Kendall Knight. James crossed his arms and rolled toward the wall, not meeting the blonde's eyes anymore.

"Yeah."

"You know you look _good_, right?"

"I guess..."

"You know you look _perfect_, right? Just as perfect as you want?"

"..."

"Jay Jay..." Kendall sighed, noting the tears welling in his best friend's eyes. He really wished that he could see the great looking guy he did, but James didn't work like that, and Kendall had long since stopped getting frustrated about it. Insecure James was insecure, and he had to live with it... or do everything in his power to make him see otherwise. "Look at you," he said, cupping his cheek in his hand and tilting his face toward him, knowing better than to run his hand through his hair like his fingers so badly itched to do. "Bro, I mean this in the non-gayest way possible, but you're the hottest guy I've ever talked to. I'd say seen, but Katie had me watch Never Say Never, and that Justin is so smokin-"

Kendall was cut off when James through a pillow at him, a smile pulling on his lips. "Shut up!" he groaned with a laugh. Kendall shook his head and nudged him in the ribs.

"I'm talking slow motion hair flips Jay!" he near shouted, not afraid of waking Carlos or Logan beneath them, the two turning into logs when they hit the hay. Carlos, albeit, a flailing log. The kid even moved when he slept. "SLOW. MOTION. HAIR FLIPS!" he reiterated, as if James didn't get it the first time. The two laughed a bit, and then doubled over when Carlos started muttering the lyrics to "Baby" in his sleep. When their giggling subsided a familiar concerned expression came across Kendall's face. "So are you good?" he asked, eyebrows knit together. Another impressive sight on Kendall Knight. James threw him a weak smile.

"Yeah. I'm good."

**Guys, my poor puppy. Thunderstorms freak him out really bad, and he just spent a really bad one in my lap all breathing heavy. Although, I could barely pet him cause I had to freaking box so long, my fingers didn't want to curl up anymore after being fists for so long, but whatever. Haha, he's back. His name is Oliver, btw (Like Oliver Twist. It was one of the books I was reading at the time. The other one was Antsy Does Time, but no one else in the fam thought Antsy was a cute name). He's a cavapoo.  
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**Please review, not to be a whiner or anything, but please do...**


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